Yikes. This was the sight that I had first thing this morning, as I went to mop the gents toilets. Well it would have been the exact sight, had I entered the cubicle on my hands and knees for some twisted reason. I would have been happy to leave him there for a while, as he obviously found it the toilet comfortable enough to want to stay there. But I had to think of Malcolm and his feline curiosity, (and torturing and killing inclination). There would have been no chance of him leaving the frog alone, only two days ago Malcolm decided that the best thing to do to a fairly chilled out greyhound in the pub was to stalk him, leap out and bop him on the nose. Honest. Our cat certainly is brave and fearless if not the most intelligent pussy around. Needless to say that a breed of dog that has been systematically bred over centuries to chase and hunt small furry things, didn't put up with that much, and Malcolm finally found his match.
Being the ultra-macho man that I am, I got Hayley to rehouse the Frog somewhere onto Brandon Hill. I would have touched it but it's all,,, uggh.
And of course the glaring thing that this photo tells me is that we really have to repaint those tiles in the gents. They are not often noticed or cared about, but they really do look crap. Needs sorting asap.
|Early right wing tendencies ?|
Anyway, here's a few photos that I found of the first few days that Malcolm came to the pub, back in December. He was just eight weeks old then, but already showing signs of his strong spirit. The second day that he was here, he was quite happy to sit in his box supervising the comings and goings of the pub. :)